


The Future is Here

by waywardelle



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Dream World, Fluff, Head Injury, M/M, Season 1, mutually obsessed in love, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardelle/pseuds/waywardelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the filming of season one of Supernatural, Jared is knocked unconscious right before they break for Christmas. When he wakes up, he’s ten years in the future without any recollection of actually living the memories that are flooding back to him. He’s a thirty-something math teacher in Austin, Texas, with dogs and a sprawling ranch house, and he’s so incredibly gone for the man he’s married to, the co-star he’d only just realized he was falling for: Jensen Ackles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Future is Here

**Author's Note:**

> So, my second foray into J2, and really my first fic that writes //them,// since the other was Mockumentary AU. I'm really nervous about this. Weird that this is the longest fic I've ever written, and the fastest (just a little over 10 hours for 13k words). Enjoy.

Jared is so goddamned happy.

At twenty-three, he’s starring in his own show with an amazing crew, supporting cast, and craft services. He gets to wake up every day fresh, shed his own layers while stepping into the many he’s created in Sam Winchester, whom he’s starting to love as a completely separate person. Vancouver is gorgeous, with lush, green forests and icy, snow-dusted mountains year-round, and the people are so fucking nice, they make Texans look rude. He feels like an adult, really, for the first time in his life, in charge of his own way, captain of his own ship. 

And. And his co-star is just… 

He’s looked at guys before, okay? In that way. But he’s never actually had the balls to go through with anything, from this deep-seated Texas-sized fear of a Hell he’s pretty sure he doesn’t even believe in, and his mama’s undying wish of getting dimpled grandchildren. It hasn’t been a problem until now. Until Jensen fuckin’ Ackles.

Jensen is shy and vulnerable in a way that would probably surprise a lot of people, including their fans, who venerate him for his masculine beauty and gun-toting, smart-mouthed, rough-around-the-edges Dean Winchester. Jared loves Dean Winchester, don’t get him wrong, but he’s no Jensen. Jensen is kind in a way that’s not loud and obnoxious (unlike Jared). He quietly gives of himself, his time and energy and loyalty, to anyone who stays loyal long enough to earn it. He’s focused on his craft, and Jared experiences actor-jealousy almost every time they have a scene together, but not in an ugly way. In a way that makes him feel like, if the people at the WB think Jared can act next to someone like Jensen, Jared must not be as bad as he tells himself he is sometimes. 

Jensen is funny, too, in really unexpected ways. He’s dry and sarcastic, quick with his tongue. He can be goofy, too, and Jared loves that Jensen will join him in pranks, and he’s never happier than when those oddly deep eye crinkles start at the corners of his co-stars pretty green peepers. And he’s just, just so fucking _beautiful_ in a way that makes Jared almost angry, not want to mention it, because everyone can see how beautiful he is, and there’s so much more to Jensen than that. He doesn’t think Jensen would be near as beautiful to him if there wasn’t some sort of inner light shining through, illuminating the devastatingly sharp jaw and full, pink lips.

He’s fucking crazy about the guy, okay? But Jensen is dating some Playboy model, naturally, and Jared’s just some lanky, goofy kid from San Antonio, and he’s not even sure if Jensen swings both ways like him. There have been times when he swears the tension, the spark between them is so red-hot, people are gonna start wanting to see the brothers just cut the shit and have sex in the backseat of the coolest car in the universe, but Jared doesn’t know if that’s just Jensen being the fucking amazing actor he is, or what. 

Jensen will get all loose around him, though, in ways he doesn’t with anyone else. Jensen is always kind, but he’s reserved and stiff-upper-lipped. Around Jared, though, with a couple fingers of whiskey in his belly, his legs spread into this gorgeous vee, and whatever heat he’s packing down there is pushed hard against the fly of his jeans. It makes Jared wanna reach over, put his hands there, feel the warmth, see what kind of noises he can make his ever-cool co-star generate. 

Jensen’s eyes will get a little glassy, and he smiles easier, wider, his lips a little wet all the time because he has this bad habit of licking them, and Jared just wants to lean over, make them even shinier with his own spit, and maybe something a little baser. 

Jensen gets cuddly, too, when he's tired and a little buzzed, or at least makes Jared be cuddled. He wraps his arms up around Jared, pulling until he burrows into the heat Jensen’s body puts forth. Jensen makes these adorable grumpy sounds as Jared makes himself comfortable, like he's so bothered, definitely not the one who initiated it. Jensen will open his arms, let Jared fall forward into them, and they both will sigh like it’s what they’d been angling for all along, Jared’s heart pounding so loud and hopeful he knows Jensen can hear it. 

Yeah, to say he’s a little fucking gone on Jensen is a mild understatement. 

“You okay, Jay?” asks the very person he’s perving on, peering up at him from their marks. They’re shooting the mid-season finale, Asylum, and their director, Richard Hatem, is finalizing some things with the lighting department before they wrap up for Christmas break. 

“Yeah, man,” Jared answers, slapping Jensen on the back. His co-star is clad in Dean’s oversized leather jacket, fiddling with the fake EMF meter. “Just out of it. Ready to get back to Texas.”

“You and me both,” Jensen grins up at him. Jared’s used to people having to look up at him, but he fucking loves it with Jensen, and he loves even more that Jensen doesn’t have that far to look up. He’s tall and strong in his own right, could probably beat Jared’s ass if he really wanted to. 

Jared won’t ever forget Jensen coming back for him, putting a couple guys in the hospital for ganging up on him in that bar. The fury he remembers seeing on his friend’s face still gets to him, but not more than the relief thereafter, or the tight hug that had their hard, adrenaline-filled dicks rubbing against each other. 

“You’re still comin’ down to San Antone to see my family, right? They all got you a present, so you’d kinda be a dick not to,” Jared jokes, flashing his co-star a smile.

“Aw, man,” Jensen crows, patting a hand against Jared’s chest, “way to make a guy feel pressured. Now I guess I _gotta_ come lug all the presents my family bought you.”

Jared pumps a fist in the air. “Score! Extra presents!”

“Dude, knowing me is the biggest gift of all, and you damn well know it.” Jensen’s smile is still ha-ha-joking, but it’s softer, closed-lipped, and the corners of his eyes are crinkled up in that soft way he has that makes Jared’s stupid heart start pounding.

“You wish,” Jared answers finally, slapping softly at Jensen’s face as Richard calls to roll sound. 

They do a couple more takes (who’s the hotter psychic?), then move on to the last scene of the first-half of the season. Dr. Ellicot is supposed to shove Sam around, knock him against a shelf, and really unnecessarily beat the crap out of him, in Jared’s opinion. Jensen is done, so Jared was half expecting him to take off, but he’s lingering in the background, peering through Richard’s camera. It gives Jared an idea for Jensen’s birthday gift: a mini Director’s viewfinder. Jensen told him after several beers one night that it’s his dream to direct, and he’s thinking about the smile it’ll put on Jensen’s face when Richard calls action.

Dr. Ellicot slams Sam hard against a wobbly shelf, and it makes Jared a little lightheaded, but he continues on. He’s a little confused when he hears Jensen yell, “Jared, move!” in a frantic, booming voice. He looks at Jensen, watches him rush at him before a sharp pain, and then nothing at all.

\---- 

When Jared wakes up again, it’s to a screeching buzzer that won’t leave him alone, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. 

“Mmmph,” he mumbles, reaching out blindly to stop what he distantly recognizes as his alarm.

“Baby, shut that fucking thing off before I kill you,” someone mutters darkly from where their face is buried in between Jared’s shoulder blades. 

Jared stiffens, cracking an eye open. He’s in a moderately-sized bedroom, facing a set of French doors that seem to lead out to a balcony. It’s decidedly not the hotel he’s been staying in, too lazy to find an apartment when the WB promised him one in the Spring. It’s got a homey feel to it, the white walls with dark blue trim and gorgeous hardwood floors. There’s a pair of sweatpants next to the bed which he assumes are his, sitting next to a pair of house shoes that are the size of boats, which are definitely his. 

“Jared,” the definitely-male voice speaking into his back growls. “Shut it off right now.”

Jared fumbles for the nightstand by his side, grabbing for a phone that looks confusing as hell, with no buttons, just a black touch screen that’s flashing the time: 6:30AM. It helpfully tells him to swipe to turn it off, but then asks him for a passcode, and he panics.

“What’s, uh,” he whispers to the body behind him, “do you know my passcode?”

“Wow,” the voice drawls back, “I really did fuck you stupid last night. My birthday, goober.”

He recognizes that voice suddenly. It’s a little deeper, and he’s never heard it this sexy-lazy-sleepy, but it’s, “Jensen?”

“Jared! Now!” Jensen is getting irate about the beeping, so Jared quickly enters 0301, his fingers moving like he already knew that, and something weird comes over him. It’s like deja vu, because he knows he’s not where he’s supposed to be, but it’s like he’s in a dream, everything making sense, second-nature, everything familiar even if one has never been there before. 

Jared does not remember getting into bed with Jensen, who is definitely naked against his back. He can feel the soft skin of Jensen’s thighs catching against the back of his as he settles back into a comfortable position, sighing a hot breath against Jared’s neck that makes him shiver. Jensen’s dick is rock-hard with the morning, and it’s nestled between Jared’s asscheeks, and Jensen is (whether on purpose or not) working his hips a little, back and forth, making contented humming noises in Jared’s ear.

He would have remembered this, right? But maybe he does, because a flood of things comes rushing to him, memories he hasn’t made yet, and it overwhelms him for a minute. 

Jensen must feel how stiff he is, because his hand trails along Jared’s waist to grab at his fingers. He wraps them up tight, placing their hands on Jared’s stomach. “You okay, Jay?”

“Yeah,” Jared breathes through the tears, the movie playing in his head showing him falling in love with Jensen over the course of five years on Supernatural, and the most miraculous thing, Jensen falling in love with him right back. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Jared glances down at their hands, their left hands, and the matching platinum bands on their ring fingers. They glint in the sunrise coming through the white, gauzy curtains, and his throat is so tight with joy and fear he’s not sure how to breathe around it. He knows he’s thirty-three, a math teacher at a private school in Austin, Texas. Supernatural ended after season five, almost six years ago, and he’d gone back to school to get a degree while Jensen threw himself into directing indie films, quite successfully at that, if the Film Festival awards (that reside in the case downstairs in Jensen’s office) are any indication. 

Jared turns, suddenly needing to see Jensen’s face, see what kind of man he grew into. He wants to know exactly how lucky he is for this man to love him, to agree to marry an idiot like Jared. Jensen’s body shuffles back to his own space to accommodate Jared’s move, and Jared’s breath catches in his throat when he takes in his thirty-seven year old husband for the first time.

When Jensen was twenty-seven, there was no one on earth more beautiful than him. However, he’d still retained some of his prettiness from youth, but this-- this _man_ in front of him, lying on his side, blinking slowly and yawning, is so fucking stunning he doesn’t know how to process it all. The broad, strong shoulders, the heavy muscles in his arms, the thick pecs and solid-but-soft tummy. The meaty thighs covered in blonde hairs, his perfect feet, and the long, fat length of him (oh god, no wonder his ass is so sore) poking at Jensen’s belly button, the base nestled in a thatch of dark, curly hair. 

And Jesus, his timeless face, which has aged like wine, has gotten richer and more tasteful. There are wrinkles where there used to be only lines, and grey in the scruffy beard along his sharp jaw, and just a little bit of loose skin pillowing under his chin. He doesn’t smell like cigarettes anymore, and his hair is longer, combed over to one side instead of gelled up into disheveledness, very 1940’s, and it looks so soft and not dorky, like it should. 

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Jared murmurs around the clog in his throat, unable to stop himself from reaching out, touching Jensen the way he’s been dying to do since he met the man during pilot season in 2004. “How did I get so lucky?”

Jensen smiles at him, eyes still closed. “It’s still a mystery,” he muses, humming a little as Jared’s fingers wander down his strong chest. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I,” Jared starts, blinking back tears. He doesn’t know why he’s here, why he’s suddenly skipped ten years without any recollection of actually living those years while still having all the memories. But knowing what he does, knowing the man Jensen is and how deeply he loves Jared, how he’s saved him from both himself and a life of misery without him, he knows without a doubt, “I love you so much, Jensen.”

Jensen finally cracks an eye open to peer at Jared, his _husband,_ from across the white sheets of their California King. “I love you, too, baby. C’mere. You’re too far away.”

Apparently Jared’s been waiting for permission to come closer without even realizing it, because as soon as Jensen demands it, his body is already there, smashing itself into the warm expanse of his man. 

Jensen wraps a firm hand into Jared’s hair, which is longer than he ever thought he’d keep it, and brings their mouths together in a kiss that tastes of morning breath and stale drool, but it’s the best kiss of Jared’s entire life because it's _Jensen_. He groans into it, into the way Jensen just takes it over, sliding his tongue lazily across Jared’s lips and into his mouth, answering Jared’s moan with a rumble of his own. They lay there making out for what feels like hours, trading tongues back and forth, biting at lips and Jensen whispering soft things in damp breaths. 

Jensen pushes at him suddenly, getting him to spin back over to the little spoon position Jared was in before. 

“Think you’re still stretched enough from last night?” he murmurs hotly into Jared’s ear, biting along his neck as he wrenches Jared’s leg up at the inner thigh. “Know you’re still wet enough. Gave you so much, you’re gonna be leaking for days. Hold your leg up for me, baby,” and even though Jared’s never actually had anal sex before, he knows this is what he likes, what he loves, Jensen fucking him open until he’s gasping, sobbing into the pillow underneath him.

He grabs at his thigh, hand shaking where it wraps around the outer part of it before hooking back against his inner. Jensen reaches down over his waist, palming at Jared’s cock, which has been a dull throb since he woke up, but it jerks so hard in Jensen’s hand, leaks so much, he thinks he’s come for a minute. 

“Fuck, you always get me so worked up,” Jensen breathes. Jared can hear him spitting into his hand, and then there’s a wide, blunt tip nudging at his asshole. He pushes back into it, bearing down on instinct alone, and god, Jensen was right, he _is_ still fucked open and wet inside, because Jensen slides right in, and Jared whimpers his surprised pleasure into the pillow.

“I wanna hear it,” Jensen insists, using the hand tucked behind Jared’s body to grab at his hair, yanking his head off the pillow. He snaps his hips forward as he tugs, and Jared’s mouth falls open as he shouts out, head falling back against Jensen’s shoulder as his husband lays him to waste with the force behind his thrusts. 

It doesn’t take him very long, the feeling so new without the accompanying pain he expected the first the time he did this. And it feels so fucking good, so much better than he ever imagined something up his ass to feel, with Jensen keeping a firm, pounding pressure against his insides, massaging at his straining cock and full balls.

“Gonna,” Jared pants, backing his ass up so hard he can hear the way Jensen’s balls are slapping against him. “Fuck, Jen,” he whines as Jensen’s cockhead skirts across something that lights him up inside.

“Found it,” Jensen whispers, “didn’t I? Little thing’s all swollen. Clench up for me, hmm?”

Jared does, and it makes him comes on the next thrust, with Jensen pulling at his cock like he knows exactly the way Jared needs it, and after he’s done sobbing with the force of it, the way Jensen’s hips pick up speed now that he’s chasing his own release, he realizes Jensen _does_ know that. 

“C’mere,” Jensen groans, pulling out, rolling Jared onto his back. “Wanna see that gorgeous face.”

Jared wants that, too, opening his legs wide so Jensen can crawl between them. Jared watches his husband’s face as he slides back in, the smoothed out muscle inside him making Jensen bite his lip against the noise he wants to make.

Jared hitches his hips up, planting his feet against the bed. “Wanna hear your noises, too,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s lower back, helping him with the last few pushes. 

“Fuck,” Jensen all but whimpers before his hips lose their beat, and he forces himself in hard, coming hotly as deep inside his husband as he can. 

Jared just hums, running his hands down Jensen’s smooth back, cupping his ass, kissing at his slack mouth. Jensen gets with the program soon enough, falling forward to participate in the dirty-lazy kiss Jared’s trying to give him, their still-panting breaths creating a warm, humid space between them.

They finally separate with a groan, Jensen holding on to the base of his cock for a smoother ride out. 

“Good morning to me,” Jared sighs, stretching his long body against the bed, wanting to go back to sleep. He knows he can’t, though, knows he has to go to work today, a Friday, according to his phone. He suddenly knows the word (iPhone), and he wonders what else has happened in the ten years his body has skipped but mind has not. 

As Jensen cleans them up with tissues from his nightstand, Jared rolls the scene back over in his head, the way he’d just fallen apart the second his ass got involved. It was easier, none of that first-time reticence, because he’d known deep-down that he craved the feeling of Jensen moving inside him, the strange, intense parting of delicate muscles that are designed to take things out, not keep things in, and it hits him suddenly, so hard, that he can’t help but say it out loud.

“I am such a bottom,” he comments in a dreamy voice, clenching his inner muscles just to feel how lovely-sore they are. 

That makes Jensen look at him in surprise and mirth, his eyes shining, mouth curled. “Uh, yeah, baby. Alert the media.”

“Shut up,” Jared whines, unable to stop the smile he sends back, swatting at Jensen’s head.

Jensen bends down for a short kiss. “I so want to go back to sleep,” Jensen groans after, rolling off Jared to peer at the clock on his nightstand. “I don’t have that conference call until nine.”

“You promised me breakfast,” Jared pouts, the words true but falling out of his mouth without his consent. His stomach growls, though, so he’s gonna push the issue, even if he didn’t realize it was one until now.

“You’re lucky you have a great ass,” Jensen mumbles into his pillow, heaving himself up afterwards with a great sigh. “You go shower. Any requests?”

“Whatever it is, I want sausage gravy all over it,” Jared says firmly, patting at his stomach. He’s pleased with this body-- it’s not cut as sharply with the valleys and ridges of muscle he possesses in his early twenties, but he can tell he keeps himself in shape. His point of pride, that dangerous vee pointing to the cock lying hefty but soft between his legs, is still prominent. 

“I've got your sausage gravy right here,” Jensen grins, grabbing at his own cock and balls, pervy and immature. Jared _loves_ this man.

“Gross,” he grins, ducking away from his blush. “You’re gross, Jen. And don’t forget to feed the kids.”

Jensen scoffs. “When do I ever?” Jared watches him go through a giant armoire by the door to the walk-in closet, pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants. 

He sees no issue in objectifying this man, his _husband_ , god, the romantic sap in him just in love with that word alone, as he bends over, Jensen’s sleepy, sex-tired limbs uncooperative as he struggles into the sweatpants. When he gets them on, finally, Jared is obsessed with the way they hug the thick cock hiding just underneath, and he watches Jensen’s firm ass all the way out the door.

Jared waits for the tinkling of collars-- three separate ones, he thinks, grinning. His mind isn’t supplying the faces or names of the pups, but the way it's worked so far, Jared has to be faced with what he wants to remember before it’ll come back to him. It seems kinder that way, not as overwhelming, and the only reason the entirety of Jensen came back to him all at once when he first woke up is because it seems like almost every single moment of his life over the past ten years has been tangled up in that man. 

After his shower, he stands in front of the mirror, surveying his face. He hasn’t aged as well as Jensen, in his opinion, but he’s happy with it all the same. He definitely doesn’t look like a kid anymore, doesn’t need a little stubble to denote the fact he’s a man. The wrinkles do that job just fine, but he’s got a beard a little lighter than his husband’s anyway, and he spends a couple minutes trimming it down before he goes full unabomber.

He, shockingly, has more grey hair than Jensen, but still mostly brown. It falls in layers to just under his chin, and the thin black hair tie on his wrist tells him he pulls it back often. His five-head is still embarrassing, no matter how long his hair is, and he scoffs as he rubs at it. He’s a little thinner than he wants to be, and there’s a pink surgery scar against the top of his bicep. 

He goes through his closet, the words Casual Friday ringing in his mind, knows he can wear denim on the last day of the work week, and thank god for that. He pulls on a pair of jeans that are, uh, tighter than he’s used to wearing them, but they look surprisingly good, making his thin, trim legs look a mile long. He thinks he probably bought these to appease his fashion-conscious husband who makes him use coupons at the grocery store but will drop ten grand on a suit without blinking. A thick, canvas-like white button up goes on over his white t-shirt, and he rakes his hair back into a tiny little bun that does wonders for showing off his fresh shave, and the jawline underneath. 

He steps into leather boots, throwing on a leather jacket and grey cashmere scarf, and he laughs at himself, thinking how good, but how _metro_ he probably looks (he never thought he’d be this good at dressing himself, Jensen’s influence obvious over every piece in his closet), but apparently he’s the bottomiest bottom in the world, so fuck it. He _is_ gay, pretty damn proud of it, too. 

Jensen wolf-whistles as he steps into the kitchen, and Jared shoots him a grin as he tries not to look around in awe at their beautiful home. It’s everything he dreamed of when he thought of settling down-- a huge, open floor plan with no discernible walls between the giant living room and kitchen, with a massive ceiling stretching probably thirty feet above them, and a sprawling spiral staircase with the landing in a neat square trim along the four walls. 

The kitchen itself is in all stainless steel and mahogany, with a giant island in the middle Jensen is cooking at, the electric burners on top nestled up against the wide sink. He runs his fingers along the granite countertops that double as cutting boards, before wrapping his arms around Jensen’s waist, snuggling up to his back.

“Let’s play hooky and spend all day in bed,” Jensen suggests, turning slightly to look him up and down in a way that makes Jared absurdly pleased. “I told you you’d like those skinny jeans if you gave them a chance.”

“You’re just so not subtle about checking out my ass, so I thought I’d make it easier,” Jared shoots back, grinning at Jensen over his shoulder as he goes to the double doors leading into the backyard. “Kids!” he calls, throwing them open.

A German Shepherd, Golden Retriever, and a beautiful little auburn Basenji all come rushing towards him, nearly toppling him over with the love they slam into his body. They lick at his face and hands, whining and wiggling, all trying to get closer, the most love from daddy. 

“You’re gonna smell like dog spit the rest of the day,” Jensen grins, shoving a plate across the island to a place setting where a bigger version of his phone, (an iPad, his brain supplies as he looks over) is open to a newspaper website (app, he thinks again). There’s fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee, too, so Jared finally backs away from his dogs (Sadie, the german, Lucy, the golden, and Otis, the Basenji) to quell the hunger that won’t leave his stomach alone.

“Thank you,” Jared croons to his husband, leaning forward for a kiss.

Jensen wrinkles his nose, giving him a light peck. “I love you, but you honestly smell like dog.”

That attitude won’t do at all. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen tightly, rubbing his face and lips all over Jensen’s face and neck, while his husband squawks and fake-gags. 

“Okay, okay, point taken, Sasquatch,” Jensen cries, shoving him away. “Food. Now. You gotta leave in like fifteen minutes, and Doc Thompson is gonna be super pissed if you’re late again.”

The principal, he realizes. “You make me late often?” Jared grins, giving his husband bedroom eyes as he settles across the island onto his stool.

“As often as I can,” Jensen answers breezily, unrepentant. He settles down to his own meal of egg whites and granola, with freshly squeezed grapefruit juice.

Wrinkling his nose at the rabbit food, Jared is pleased to see his own breakfast: two fat biscuits smothered in, yes, sausage gravy, with hashbrowns and three sausage links, the skins dusted with red pepper-flakes, still crackling and spitting juice. 

They don’t talk much during breakfast, making little comments about the articles they’re reading, Jensen with his New York Times, and Jared with The Daily Texan. Ten minutes later, Jensen is pushing a leather briefcase into Jared’s hands, which is embossed with his initials, JTA-P (he can’t stop grinning at that), giving him a searing kiss, “to last the whole day,” and patting his ass out the side door into the garage. 

He finds his keys in his briefcase, scoffing at Jensen’s sporty little silver Infiniti next to Jared’s black Jeep Grand Cherokee, muttering about pussy little cars taking up garage space. He backs out of the driveway, honking twice, which he knows Jensen listens for every morning. He takes a look at his home from the outside, the sprawling two-story ranch on Lake Austin, sighing contentedly. Then, he allows his body to go into autopilot as the GPS takes over his route to school. 

It takes him forty-five minutes in moderate traffic to get to Austin Waldorf School, the tiny private school where he teaches ninth and tenth grade Algebra and Geometry. He parks in the employee area, then unfolds his long limbs out of the car, juggling his briefcase, iPhone (which plays music over Bluetooth, so fucking cool, though it had startled him into jerking the car when it’d randomly started up after connecting), and a cold Starbucks white chocolate coffee that he’d found in the coolers at the Shell station, which tastes like liquid ambrosia, in his opinion. He _loves_ 2016.

Jared waves hello to several of his co-workers as he weaves through the school, which doesn’t look like any school he’s ever seen, more like a getaway spa. He finds his classroom and adjacent office, settling his briefcase down on his desk with a sigh. 

He can’t believe he’s not freaking out about this. Somewhere in him, he knows this has to be a hyper-realistic dream, because despite the show he works on, he knows stuff like this isn’t real, that he can’t just skip ten years and wake up with memories he’s positive he hasn’t actually made. But this life is damn near perfect, and he feels good in his skin, like he’s happy and fulfilled and in love and successful, which are all the things Jared has craved for his future. So whatever this is, he’s gonna ride it out, see it through until he has to get back to the real world.

His classes go smoothly, the size of them (only about ten in each) a little shocking, but he knows each kid’s name, and their story. The kids _like_ him, genuinely like him, and they call him Mr. AP, which he figures is much easier than trying to spit out Mr. Ackles-Padalecki. He’s always loved math, a nerdy little mathlete himself before becoming an actor, and it gives him real joy to watch understanding light up in his students.

He checks his phone while his last class of the morning is taking a quiz, since he'd heard it buzz from inside his desk all morning. There are several texts from Jensen, one from his sister, and one from a colleague named Ms. Brown. 

_Jensen: This conference call is fucking stupid._  
_Jensen: I want a panini for lunch. You want?_  
_Jensen: Are those teenagers really more interesting than me?_  
_Jensen: Don’t make me send you a dick picture._  
_Jensen: I hope you want a panini, because I’m bored of this script, so I’m gonna come eat with your ignoring ass. It’d sure be nice if my husband loved me._

He quickly texts back that he’d love to see him, and that he would love him more if he didn’t get threatened all the time. Jensen texts back nothing but an emoticon of a middle finger sticking up, so Jared gets lost for a while in the pages and pages of little _emojis,_ his brain quickly supplies, that he finds on his phone. He answers his sister’s general hey how are you text, then moves on to the last one. 

_Ms. Brown: Can we talk over lunch break?_

Jared feels unsettled about this, though he’s not totally sure why. He texts back that he’s having lunch with his husband, and she responds quickly, saying it will only take a minute. He replies in the affirmative, but he can’t stop the frown from forming over his face.

“Hey, AP,” London, one of his favorite and most precocious students calls out, “could you stop texting for five seconds and collect our quizzes?”

The whole class laughs, and Jared flushes around a grin as he drops his phone back into his desk drawer. “Ha-ha, very funny. Yeah, bring ‘em on up.” He pats his desk just as the bell sounds, so they drop them on his desk one by one as they file out of the room towards lunch.

There’s a knock on his door a couple minutes later, and he straightens from stacking the quizzes as it opens. A beautiful young woman stands there, all dark hair and sultry lips, and he suddenly understands why he felt so unsettled about this.

“How can I help you, Ms. Brown?” he asks, polite but short. 

“Jared,” she coos as she moves into the room, smoothing down the front of her shirt to make her cleavage show. “No need to be so nervous. There’s no one here but us.”

He’s never felt less like looking at boobs, swallowing down disgust at the way she purrs around the word _us_. “As I’ve told you several times, unless you have something professional to speak to me about, there’s really no reason for you to be here. And it’s Mr. Ackles-Padalecki, Ms. Brown.”

“I don’t believe you,” she insists, moving forward, her lips in a pout. 

Panic rises in his throat. He won’t touch a woman, won’t shove someone so much smaller than him, but she’s quickly crowding in his space, and it’ll make him absolutely sick if he inadvertently cheats.

“I’m married to a man, one that I love,” he tries again, keeping his voice firm as he backs away further, ass hitting the edge of his desk.

“I looked you up online,” she continues, trailing a thin finger down his chest, “and aside from the little PR stunt with your co-star, all your previous relationships have been with women. You aren’t gay.”

“I assure you he is,” comes another voice, harder than steel, angrier than a thousand Texas thunderstorms. It makes Jared sag in relief, as this crazy woman spins around so quickly she trips in her high heels. 

“Jen,” he says hesitantly, suddenly kind of afraid for this woman’s life. Jared wouldn't call him possessive, because it's an ugly word, but Jensen certainly never has a problem showing people who assume Jared isn't taken just how wrong they are. Not to mention, it gets Jared hard so fast, the blood loss to his brain makes him a little dizzy.

“In fact,” Jensen continues like he didn't hear his name, moving into the classroom like an angry lion, stalking his prey for the kill-shot, “weren’t we just discussing this morning how much of an epic bottom you are, baby?”

Jared laughs, he can’t help it, especially at the twisted look of disgust painted over this woman’s face. 

“He’s told me about you,” Jensen growls, getting as close into the woman’s face as he can, “and I almost didn’t believe anyone would have the gall. Jared, baby, your hand, please,” he says, reaching out for Jared’s left hand, which he proffers, laying it delicately into Jensen’s palm. “This would be a wedding band, the one I put on his finger, June 27th, 2011. You want more proof?” Jensen grabs for Jared’s hair, dropping the paper bag of sandwiches and cans of soda on his desk, pressing a hungry, claiming kiss against his mouth he can’t help but melt for. 

“You’re disgusting,” she snarls, backing away, “and what’s wrong with this country.”

“Gay marriage was legalized in this country last year,” Jensen tells her, not looking away from Jared’s face, thumbing it carefully, like he’s checking for damage, “so actually, _you_ are what’s wrong with it now, you homophobic, small-minded bitch. I will be speaking to my good friend, Doc Thompson, you know, your boss? About this. Did you know he was in attendance at our anniversary party last year? I would start looking for another job, like, now. Try Craigslist.” 

Jared is almost panting, his husband is so hot and cold and dismissive and protective and god damn, how’s he gonna get through the rest of the day with this raging boner? Ms. Brown storms out, slamming the door behind her, and Jensen is on him lightning-fast, pressing his lips so hard against Jared’s, he can feel his lips bruising. 

“You're... mine,” Jensen tells him around the kisses that are melting Jared into a puddle on the floor. “And I, god, I’m yours. You know that, right? Tell me, baby, I’m going crazy here.”

“We’ve been married almost five years, and you still don’t know how gone I am for you? I must be doing something wrong,” Jared murmurs, ducking his head into Jensen’s neck, taking in great huffs of his husband’s aftershave. 

“Of course I do, baby. I just,” he lets out a huge rush of air, sagging against Jared and the desk. “Fuck, I’m so angry. I almost killed her.”

“Well, you definitely killed her spirit,” Jared chuckles. “You know that I’m yours, Jen. That you’re mine. However... that was pretty hot, if not totally inappropriate for a place where teenagers come to learn.”

“Eh,” Jensen grins against Jared’s neck. “It’s a progressive school. C’mon, let’s eat, okay? Should still be warm.”

Their conversation trails away into more lighthearted topics, Jared contentedly eating the delicious turkey and swiss panini Jensen had made for him even before knowing he’d be okay to come up here. Jared gathers they do this a lot, and it makes him happy that even six hours away from each other still seems like an unfair stretch of time. Jensen bitches about the idiots he’s working with, and Jared hums in sympathy, and before he knows it, the warning bell for afternoon classes is ringing.

Jensen rises with a sigh, packing up the trash into the brown bag before shouting, “Kobe!” and shooting it for the trash can. It bounces off the corner, lands on the floor, and Jared chuckles at the pretty pout on his husband’s face. 

“Don’t worry, that was plenty Kobe of you,” Jared quips, rising to press a kiss against Jensen’s lips. “See you around three?”

“I’ll be in another conference call, but duck your head in so I know you’re home. I’ll text you when I get there, let you know I’m safe.” Jared watches as Jensen straightens his ballcap, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in a way that’s so familiar, it hits him again just how well, how long they’ve known each other. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a teacher to get fired.”

“Do you have to?” Jared asks quietly, somehow knowing how bad this economy is, how difficult jobs are to come by.

“Yes,” Jensen says firmly. “Baby, it has nothing to do with me feeling threatened by her,” which makes Jared lift his head up, because that somewhat insecure thought had just fluttered through his mind, “but you’re threatened by her, and I can’t stand for that. You didn’t see the look on your face when I got here, and I won’t let that stand in a place you have to be five days out of the week, nine hours a day. In a place we invest so much of our time and money.”

Jared recalls how Jensen spends one day a month here, lecturing the senior film students on various topics, and the thousands of dollars they’ve collectively put in towards the arts, and the numerous benefactor dinners and events they frequent. 

“Besides, Jay,” Jensen continues, reaching forward to tuck a lock of hair that has fallen from his bun behind his ear, “it’s sexual harassment that spiraled into discrimination, and I don’t care if it’s from a woman. It still counts. We’ve fought so hard for our rights, and we believe in the equal rights of women, even if they act badly. I just can’t let it go. I won’t.”

Jared is again enamored by the quiet confidence and conviction in the man he’s chosen to spend his life with, and he wonders if he ever stops being reminded why. He highly doubts it. “I love you, Jen.”

Jensen smiles at that. “I love you more, and I’ll never stop protecting you. And that has nothing to do with you not being able to protect yourself, okay? It’s just, if I’m around, I,” he stutters.

“No. It’s okay,” Jared cuts in, squeezing the awkward hand Jensen is gesturing with. “I love that you want to take care of me, because I would just let this go, and you’re right. Okay? Now go. My class this hour is constantly asking me about Dean Winchester, and it _cannot_ dissolve into another theory-driven discussion on his sexuality. They have math to learn.”

Jensen chuckles. “Wincest or Destiel?”

Jared scoffs. “Don’t offend me. Wincest. Go!”

Jensen shakes his head, walking to the door. He signs I love you with his elegant hands, and Jared returns it, the smile not leaving his face for the whole rest of the afternoon. He doesn’t tell Jensen, but he totally lets his class theorize about Wincest for a good fifteen minutes before delving into functions. 

As he’s leaving for the afternoon, he catches sight of Ms. Brown in the parking lot, putting boxes of stuff into her trunk. Whatever Jensen said had worked, and he feels a little vindicated, but still too nice of a person to gloat about it. 

He gets back home around three-fifteen, shushing the dogs’ loud barking. He can hear Jensen bitching at someone through the crack in his office door, but he sticks his head in, waving with a grin.

Jensen smiles back. “Hold on a second, Bill,” he says abruptly, cutting off the ranting coming through the speakerphone. He holds the call, leaning back in his leather desk chair. “Wanna go out to dinner tonight? Danneel texted me. She’s in town, wants to see us.”

Something like jealousy flitters through his stomach, another memory that isn’t his of Danneel’s pinched face at their wedding, the woman Jensen broke it off with the day after they confessed their feelings for the first time through words and soft slides of skin. 

“Sure?” Jared says haltingly, his voice a little higher-pitched than he means it to be. 

“Baby,” Jensen chuckles. “She’s bringing her _fiance_. The man she’s been with for the past two years. Ring any bells?”

“I have my reservations on anyone who’s seen you naked,” Jared states primly. 

“Those poor thousands of people,” Jensen clucks, grinning evilly. 

“You’re an idiot,” Jared pouts, slamming Jensen’s office door in his grinning face. 

Thirty minutes later, he’s sitting in his own office with a glass of Old Crow at his elbow, reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He didn’t realize he had to use them until the little words on the pages started swimming in front of his eyes. He assigned his sophomores essays on the Pythagorean Theorem, and they’re surprisingly good, but Jared can’t stop being distracted by the hot flash of jealousy that goes through his gut every time he thinks about Danneel, and he realizes the deep possessiveness he thought Jensen bought stock in actually goes both ways. 

Memories of the days on set Danneel would fly up to spend with Jensen keep flooding in, and the almost pointed way she’d usurp all the attention Jared was used to being on the receiving end of is still sharp. The way she would run into Jensen’s arms like she was in a field of fucking daisies, kissing him full on the mouth, and the sick, tortured way it would make Jared feel, and how he would lock himself in his trailer the whole time she was around. He knows Jensen’s devotion to him inside and out, how deep and endless it runs, knows Jensen was in love with him even then, all but using Danneel as a pretty little distraction from the feelings he was sure Jared didn’t reciprocate, but he wasn’t kidding when he said he almost violently dislikes anyone that’s gotten to see the side of Jensen he firmly thinks of as _his_. 

It’s a little shocking to him that he woke up into this life only ten hours ago, with how deeply ingrained his love is, how deep the hooks for the man downstairs are settled into his heart. Especially considering back in his actual life, he’d only just begun to recognize how much he felt for the man acting next to him in every scene. 

“Hey,” that man calls, knocking softly at the door. Jared turns to look, and he’s struck again by how beautiful Jensen is, leaning against the door jamb, holding a glass of red wine between two elegant fingers. His ballcap is tipped up like he hasn’t been able to stop fiddling with it, and Jared’s eyes trail down all the way to the frayed edges of his favorite jeans that do wonders to show off the delicious bulge in front. “If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”

Jared shakes his head, knowing he’s being petty and ridiculous. “No, I…” He stands suddenly, wanting to see, feel that package all wrapped up in denim, the gift that keeps on giving. Jared strides over to him, dropping to his knees, fumbling at his husband’s fly.

“Oh, shit,” Jensen wheezes, going to set the wine down.

“Oh, no,” Jared snaps. “You’re gonna hold on to that, and if you spill a drop you’re not getting any for a week.”

Jensen scoffs, “like you’d be able to hold out for that long,” but tightens his hold on the stem as Jared pulls out his half-hard, flushed cock, tucking his boxer briefs under his balls. 

“Hmmm,” Jared murmurs, nuzzling into the thatch of hair above the thickening cock he has in a firm grip, taking a deep whiff of the smell of Jensen’s love. He bites at the skin stretching over Jensen’s hip bones, bringing his other hand up to massage at Jensen’s heavy balls. “This for me, Jen?”

“Always,” Jensen gasps, thunking his head back against the wood paneling. “Always for you, baby.”

Jared kisses up the underside of Jensen’s erection, now fully hard and flushed in his hand, a good couple inches unable to fit into his palm as he closes it around the thick girth. He kisses at the head, letting the stringy precome stick to the spit on his lips, drawing back a little so Jensen can see the way it connects.

“Too slow,” Jensen growls, yanking Jared’s hair so suddenly his mouth opens on a gasp, and in the next second there’s a thick cock opening his throat. 

Jared chokes, and his own dick, which has been pleasantly throbbing in his pants, is now at full capacity, leaking into his boxer briefs. He’s struck again by how much he likes being controlled, likes feeling a little used in this sense, loves being a tool for his husband’s pleasure, and he closes his eyes, relaxing into it. His knees spread wide on the carpet, hands resting loosely, crossed behind his back as Jensen fucks his hips roughly towards Jared’s face, thumbing at the tears pouring down his cheeks. 

“Pretty fuckin’ mouth,” Jensen bites out as he draws back, letting Jared gasp for air. “This what you wanted, hmmm?”

At the start of this, Jared wanted to make Jensen lose his mind with want for him, and maybe he is, but he’s certainly not in control of it anymore, his own want for his husband just as strong now. 

Jared nods, shutting his eyes, moaning around the cock Jensen shoves back into his throat, and he sneaks a hand forward to cup himself through his jeans.

“Let me see,” Jensen tells him. “Let me see how much you love my cock in your throat.”

Jared does, fumbling for his fly, sighing through his nose as the pressure’s released. He pulls his boxer briefs down under his balls one-handed, quickly thumbing at his slit as the moisture beads up and spills over the head. 

“Look at you,” Jensen coos, voice rough and fucked-out. “Love it so much, don’t you?”

Jared moans in the affirmative, his hand quickly jerking at his cock, wanting to come with his husband. He can feel the tightness of Jensen’s balls against his chin, so he swallows around him, over and over, working the head tucked deep in his throat, and Jensen’s hips stutter. Jared pulls at his balls a little, the pain making him see stars, and it’s so good he unloads in his fist, panting and moaning through his nose, his eyes clenched shut. Jensen pulls out, fisting his own cock until he comes into Jared’s open mouth and all over his tongue, lips, and chin. 

“Goddamn,” Jensen breathes, drawing Jared up to lick and kiss away the come on his face. “Goddamn, baby.”

Jared smiles, lets himself be kissed, still panting, twitching, coming down from a quick, intense orgasm. He leans sleepily against his husband, who chuckles into his neck.

“You really showed me,” Jensen remarks snarkily, reaching around Jared’s waist to pull him closer. “Hey, I didn’t drop the wine.”

“Very impressive,” Jared tells him, yawning, voice a little raspy from the beating his throat just took. It hurts a little to swallow, and he loves it, just like the dull soreness in his ass he can still feel when he accidentally clenches. “We can go to dinner with her. I don’t mind.”

“Very magnanimous, babe,” Jensen drawls, backing away. “C’mon. Come sit with me while I answer my emails.”

They pile up on the couch, the dogs all around them. Jared rests his head in Jensen’s lap as they turn on MSNBC, Jensen keeping one eye on the news, one eye on his iPhone as he scrolls through hundreds of business inquiries. He asks for Jared’s input on some things, which Jared loves, loves that Jensen can fuck his throat like he owns him, but still respects his brain, needs his opinion on things that matter the most to him.

“I can tell you’re falling asleep,” Jensen murmurs a little later, after Jared accidentally stops answering his questions, content to lay there while Jensen smoothes through the hair he’s taken out of the bun, letting his fingers work out the knots. “Gotta be downtown in a few hours, so rest up. I’ll wake you up in time for a shower.”

Jared hums, turning his body to the side to bury his face in Jensen’s soft tummy. “I love you, Jen,” he mumbles, unable to count how many times he’s told him that today, but he can’t stop, doesn’t ever want to stop reminding him. 

“Me, too, baby,” Jensen smiles, tugging softly at Jared’s hair, and it’s the last thing he remembers before dozing off.

True to his word, Jensen shakes him awake as it starts getting dark, pushing his groggy ass into the shower. He feels more alert when he gets out, and he briefly wonders what he’s gonna wear to make sure his husband’s eyes never stray the whole night (they won’t anyway, he knows, but Jared doesn’t mind trying his best to ensure that). His train of thought stops when he sees Jensen sitting at the desk in their room, playing Solitaire on the iMac. 

He’s dressed in a dark grey three-piece suit, perfectly tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and smaller waist. He’s a wearing a crisp-white button down shirt that stretches beautifully against his back and shoulders, the top two buttons left open to expose the dip in between Jensen's collarbones that Jared is obsessed with, and a vest that buttons snugly against the hard lines of his stomach and chest. There’s a black handkerchief folded in the front pocket of the double-breasted jacket thrown over the back of the chair, and a pair of grey slacks that ride up just a little, showing his black dress socks stuffed into a pair of shiny black dress shoes. His hair is back to its disheveled glory, still a little wet from his shower, spiked up a bit in the front, and he’s trimmed his beard just enough to make it look like the perfect five o’clock shadow. 

Jared can’t breathe for a second. “I’ve just changed my mind,” Jared announces, dropping his towel. “We definitely cannot go.”

Jensen looks over at the thump of the towel on the floor, his tongue flashing out to his lips at the sight of Jared totally nude in the middle of their bedroom. “I don’t know if you’re in the right frame of mind to be making that decision.”

Jared sticks out his tongue, slinking towards him. He’s dry, so he feels no qualms in straddling his fully-dressed, fully-done-up husband, completely naked. “Oh, I’ve never been in a _better_ frame of mind,” he argues, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s neck to melt an open-mouthed kiss against his husband’s full lips.

“Hmm,” Jensen moans, hands coming around to squeeze Jared’s bare ass where it’s settled against the smooth thighs of his dress pants. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. And way too tempting. Go get dressed before my frame of mind drops to my dick.”

Jared grinds slowly against the hardness he can feel forming in Jensen’s pants, mouthing kisses against Jensen’s face, all down his neck. He loves him so much he feels crazy with it, obsessed with it, like it shapes every single action he takes, every single word he says in this life. He’s happy, fulfilled here for a million different reasons, but he knows for certain those reasons would mean nothing to him if Jensen wasn’t right beside him. 

“I’m so obsessed with you,” Jared whispers into Jensen’s neck, trying to squash the immature urge to leave a giant hickey on his almost forty-year-old husband’s neck. “Can’t ever get enough of you.”

“It’s mutual, baby,” Jensen tells him, squeezing his ass one last time before patting it. “C’mon, get dressed. Let’s _try_ to make it on time for once, so we can get away from the reputation of being horny teenagers who’d rather fuck than look at a clock.”

“I like that reputation,” Jared pouts, but levels off his husband’s warm lap finally, running a thumb over his sharp cheekbones. 

He eventually decides on a white Oxford shirt, keeping the few buttons at the top open in the way he knows makes Jensen a little crazy with the desire to press kisses there. He pairs it with a black overcoat and black skinny jeans, stepping into some badass motorcycle boots. He runs his fingers through his hair with some wax on them, taming it down to fall in thick layers instead of tying it back up. 

Jensen crowds him up against the mirror, and they make out shamelessly, groaning and squirming against each other. Jensen sighs deeply after they break apart, catching the time, knowing they should have left ten minutes ago, inevitably making themselves late once again. Jared can’t stop grinning, though, and Jensen eventually smiles, shaking his head, taking his hand after they shrug on their heavy coats.

Jared slides in the passenger seat of Jensen’s Infiniti, and he pouts for a good five minutes when Jensen refuses to put the top down.

“It’s thirty degrees outside,” Jensen says flatly, turning up the music to drown Jared’s whining out. 

They listen to City and Colour, one of Jensen’s favorite folksy artists, as they make their way into downtown Austin, lit up beautifully against the cold, clear Texas night. Jensen keeps a hold of his hand the entire time, fiddling with Jared’s ring, humming along to the music in his beautiful baritone. Jared is so happy, so fucking happy, he’s close to tears at the thought of this going away.

They get to Perry’s steakhouse around eight, thirty minutes after they told Danneel they’d arrive. The host nods to them, directing them through the dinner crowd to the private tables in the back, with the sprawling, open views of downtown. Jared catches sight of Danneel, and he’s reminded all over again how gorgeous she is, and he unintentionally holds on tighter to his husband’s hand.

Danneel and her fiance, Colin, stand as they get close, hugs, kisses and handshakes passed around jovially. Danneel squeezes Jared tightly, rolling her eyes when he apologizes for their lateness, her smile fond and pleased. He feels a little bit of his anxiety melt away, telling himself that he’s a stupid, jealous man.

They fall into easy conversation as Jensen and Jared sit across from them, Jensen’s hand coming to rest on Jared’s upper thigh. They’re (overly) affectionate in private, but not so much in public (Jensen hates making a _"spectacle"_ ), so Jared knows this is for him, Jensen’s private way of saying, I’m yours, just yours. Jared’s long fingers stroke over the back of Jensen’s hand, his way of saying back, thank you, I know, I love you.

“How’s the wedding planning?” Jared asks after their drinks are served, the best scotch in the house for all four of them. 

Colin groans, and Danni whacks him in the arm. “He means it’s going great,” she says sharply, smiling at them in that beautiful way she has. 

Her hair is dark brown now, the days of red hair dye long gone, and it falls in attractive waves down to the tops of her breasts. She’s dressed modestly, in a clean cut, A-line mint-green dress that makes her look healthy and tan, even in the dead of winter. Her makeup is subtle, a stark contrast to the dark eyeliner and red lips she used to wear to the Supernatural set. It seems they’ve all grown up and into their own skin, and she seems genuinely happy in herself, and Jared can’t help but let the rest of his anxiety go, and be happy for his friend. 

“Have y’all decided on a venue?” Jensen asks, looking up from his menu. “We can put in a word for you at TerrAdorna Manor, where we were married. Remember how beautiful it was?” He smiles at Jared, lovesickness clear in his green eyes, thinking back to the day they stood across from each other, pledging their undying devotion in front of their closest friends and family.

“I do,” Jared answers, not realizing he’s repeated his marriage vows until Danneel fake gags from across the table.

“You two make me sick,” she crows, but her smile is real. “It’s not normal. Don’t you ever fight?”

A flash of their most recent fight comes to Jared, and he knows it wasn’t even two weeks ago. He can’t even remember what started it now, a mix of Jensen’s control issues and Jared’s insecurity, probably, the usual reasons. He does remember the tense silence that lasted a full three days in the house, the slammed doors and trembling lips, and the cold side of the bed, since Jensen set up camp in the guest room. He remembers the way the dogs cowered away from both of them for those three days, and he spent more time at his office at school in that seventy-two hour period than he had in the previous three months combined. His heart had been so sick, so heavy, and he was always close tears, wanting Jensen so badly that he ached with it. But they were both so stubborn, so convinced of their righteousness that they didn’t even apologize until after the inevitable explosion.

It had happened like this: Jared, unable to sleep in his marriage bed without his husband, had stumbled downstairs into Jensen’s office where they kept the good booze. He’d figured Jensen would be asleep in the guest room upstairs, but instead he had been sitting up, leaning back in his desk chair, playing a game on his phone, two-AM misery plainly written on his face. 

Jared had sobbed a little, seeing him so close for the first time in days, and Jensen had looked up at him, startled and pale. Then, like a heartbeat that skipped in both their chests at the same time, they were crashing together, Jensen pushing him down face-first into the leather couch, ripping down his pajama pants. It had started as a rough, stranger-like fuck, but ended with Jared on his back, clutching Jensen so close there was barely room for their molecules to scrape together, and they were both sobbing with every thrust of Jensen’s hips, Jared begging, _begging_ Jensen not to leave him, and Jensen saying, _never, god, never, baby, can’t live without you, Jay, never could, need you, sorry, so sorry, baby._

Jared sees the ghost of that fight in Jensen’s eyes when they look at each other, and they both smile with lips trembling a little at how powerful their arguments can be, but how they always leave them even more sure than before that this between them is always inevitable, always the truth, always necessary. 

“We fight,” Jensen says, turning back to Danni with a smile, “but I prefer the making up.” He squeezes Jared’s thigh under the table.

Danni, empathetic and smart as she is, sees that she hit a sore spot, moving on with a cheerful, “you two are disgusting.”

“Seriously, though,” Jared continues as he sees their server coming to take their orders, “let us know. The wait list is as long as my arm, but we can get you in.”

“Oh, to be as fabulous as the Ackles-Padaleckis,” she tuts, shaking her head at them. She shares a look with Colin, who’s been browsing the manor's website on his phone. He nods, so she does, too. “We’ll do that, thanks.”

“You can really get us in there?” Colin wonders, still a little awestruck by the once-famous power couple in front of him.

“We kinda have keys to the city,” Jensen says modestly, scratching at the back of his neck. “It comes with certain perks.”

“Damn,” Colin whistles, putting his phone down as they smile up at their server. 

Dinner is delicious, the conversation much more lighthearted as it continues. They each get a slice of pie and lattes as dessert just to keep talking. Jared didn’t realize how funny Danneel could be, and he’s really enjoying her company, the preschool way she and Jensen tease each other. Colin is kind, but quiet, and he seems content with sitting back and letting Danni steer, which seems like a pretty smart capitulation when in love with a woman like Danneel Harris. 

After they finish up, Danneel asks Jared if he’ll come with her to grab her coat. Jared looks at Jensen, puzzled, but Jensen nods, so he says sure, offering the pretty lady his arm. She takes it gracefully, and once they’re out of earshot, she gets down to the real reason she pulled him away.

“Jared, I want to say I’m sorry,” she says quietly as they duck into a corner, looking him in the eye. 

He’s a little stunned, shaking his head. “For what? Danni--”

“No, let me finish, okay? I always knew how you felt about Jensen. I think everyone did, even from the very beginning. It was a little less obvious how Jensen felt about you, but only because he plays things so close to the chest, so I thought I still had a chance to, uh, ‘win’ his heart, I guess. But I know now that he, that I,” she swallows, looking away. “I really loved him, I’m not gonna lie to you. It hurt, and it’ll always sting a little that he was looking at me and thinking about you. But I knew that, I think, going into it, so I set myself up for failure. You two... “ She sighs, flipping hair behind her shoulder smartly. “Like magnets,” she says after a moment of thinking. “You can keep them apart by holding on to them, but once you let go, it’s always inevitable that they’ll come back together."

Jared is both really touched and really impressed by her analogy. “If it makes you feel any better, for the longest time, I had no idea that he felt like that about me. At all. I think I was the last person to know. He’s always loved you, Danni. He always will. Just…”

“Just not like he loves you,” she finishes. “He will never love anything, anyone in the way he loves you. And since I was too busy feeling sorry for myself at y’all’s wedding, I never got to say this, but he’s my best friend, and you know, blah blah, hurt him I’ll kill you.”

Jared grins at her. “I only hurt him when he asks for it.”

Her pretty faces wrenches up. “Oh, _gross!_ Wait, what am I saying? Hot. Totally hot.”

He laughs, reaching forward to scoop her up in a hug. “Hurting him would kill me,” he whispers to her, knowing she needs to hear this, and hell, he doesn’t mind saying it. “I would rather die than hurt him, Danni. I’ve been crazily, madly in love with him for almost ten years, and it only gets stronger. You don’t have to worry.”

Danneel hugs him back tightly before pulling away to peer up at his face. “I know that, Jared. Hell, anyone with eyes knows that. C’mon, okay? Get me my coat before Jensen files a missing person’s report.”

They join Jensen and Colin outside, and the smile Jensen shoots him when he catches sight of him has Jared striding towards him. He wraps Jensen tightly in his arms, pressing kisses to his face and neck, murmuring his love while Jensen strokes fingers down his back.

“Okay?” Jensen asks lowly into Jared’s ear.

“Never better,” Jared promises, pulling back to smile down at his beautiful husband. 

They say their goodbyes to Danni and Colin, hugging and kissing and shaking hands once more, then linking their fingers to walk towards the parking garage. 

“So what was that all about?” Jensen asks after Jared climbs back into the passenger seat.

Jared shakes his head, smiling. “Just calling a truce.”

“Oh, good,” Jensen grins, looking behind him to reverse. “Glad my two favorite girls worked it out.”

Jared smacks him on the arm, and Jensen cries, “abuse!” and that sets the playful tone for the thirty minute drive back home.

When they get in, Jensen hangs his keys on the hook in the foyer, and Jared says hello to their dogs as he begins to turn on all the lamps, but Jensen stops him. 

“Tired,” he explains, wrapping his fingers up in Jared’s. “Let’s call it an early night.”

Something in Jared wants to prolong this day as long as he can, a faint tinge of anxiety blooming bright red in the back of his mind. It’s perfect here, and he doesn’t want to give it up, not even to wake back up. But he knows it’s inevitable, knows deep down this isn’t heaven or a life-long coma, just a beautiful vision of what could be in store for his future. He wants to argue, sit with Jensen for another couple hours, talk to him through a movie they’ve seen a hundred times. He wants to hear Jensen’s side of how they fell in love, wants to know how deeply Jensen’s love runs, but he can see it plain as day in his husband’s eyes every time he looks at him, and right now there’s gentle want shining there, and he can’t resist that.

“Okay,” he murmurs, letting Jensen drag him up the stairs into their bedroom.

They strip away their layers of fancy clothes slowly, hot eyes taking in every bit of the other’s bared skin. They meet in the middle once they’re done, Jared so close to tears he knows he’s gonna lose that battle before this is done. 

He kisses Jensen with every ounce of love and devotion he can find, wants him to know he’ll never be alone in this, that he’ll always have a partner, that he will always need Jensen as much as Jensen needs him. Then he pushes softly at Jensen’s shoulders until he’s flat on the bed, and Jensen raises a hand to link through Jared’s fingers as he slowly climbs on top of him.

They’re silent as they work Jared open, both of their fingers joining the beautiful stretch inside him, and Jared can’t help the way his head tips back, leaving his neck bared for Jensen’s mouth. His husband sits up, wraps an arm around his waist and does just that, pushing open-mouthed love all along the spots on his skin that have Jared shaking apart. Jensen’s fingers rub inside him, catching against his prostate, and Jared cries out into Jensen’s hair, hanging on even tighter to his husband’s shoulders. 

Jensen grabs for the lube underneath the stack of pillows, slicking his heavy erection, never breaking the eye contact that’s so laden with unspoken words, Jared can almost hear them. 

He spreads his legs for Jensen’s push inside, and it just... breaks him apart, in every way. The tears start, then, pouring down his cheeks as he sobs out how perfect Jensen feels, how much he loves him, has always and will always love him.

“Don’t cry, beautiful,” Jensen murmurs, reaching up to cup his face, bringing it down for a kiss that melts Jared’s spine. 

Jensen gets up on his knees, pushing Jared to his back, holding the base of his cock as he slides back in. Jared stares up at his husband as he takes his pleasure from Jared’s body, never blinking, letting the tears flow freely. Jensen doesn’t seem worried, like Jared might cry from this soft love-making all the time, and if it always feels like this, it's probably true. Jensen just shushes him, tells him how beautiful he is, how loved and cherished Jared will always be. Jared bites his lip when Jensen gets a hold of his cock, really starts giving it to him in thick, sweet pushes of his strong hips. 

“Jen,” he murmurs over and over, pressing the word into Jensen’s mouth so he can taste how all encompassing that one syllable is, how much it means to him that he’s the only person who can call Jensen that and get a smile in response. 

“Baby,” Jensen groans back as Jared throws his head back, coming so hard he whites out for a second. Jensen follows him minutes later, quietly groaning into his neck, and he bites there, hard, giving Jared the hickey he thought about giving Jensen hours earlier. 

Their comedown is quiet, and Jensen is just as exhausted as he said he was downstairs. Jared knows he won’t sleep before his husband, has to keep looking at him, has to keep this memory close and real for as long as he possibly can.

Right before Jensen falls asleep, Jared says, “Open your eyes for me, Jen.”

Groaning, Jensen does, blinking them open. They look almost silver in the moonlight coming through their balcony doors, and Jared leans forward, kissing his mouth, keeping their eyes locked the entire time.

“No one has ever loved you the way I love you,” Jared whispers there, against his lips. 

Jensen smiles for him, one last time, before sleep pulls him under. Jared really lets his tears go then, but he’s quiet, not wanting to disturb the last peaceful look at his husband before he joins him in sleep.

\---- 

When Jared wakes up again, it’s to another sort of beeping. His heart lurches, thinking he’s still in his dream, but that makes the beeping noise increase, too. 

He groggily opens his eyes, and he’s surrounded by another set of white walls, but the air has the distinct smell of a hospital, and he groans quietly as the pain in his head comes rushing in.

He goes to raise his hand to call a nurse, but it’s held fast. He looks down, and his heart gives another lurch that makes the monitor go wild. Jensen is fast asleep against the hospital bed, face buried in his arms, Jared’s hand tucked in between them. 

He remembers his dream that he now knows was a result of probably being knocked silly into unconsciousness, and he can just barely see the edge of a newspaper Jensen had apparently been reading before exhaustion took over. According to the date there, he’s been out of it for about forty-eight hours. 

“Jensen,” he says, voice low and scratchy with disuse. He grips the arm his hand is wrapped around, shaking it slightly. “Jen?”

Jensen flies up, knocking the paper over, almost giving Jared a fucking heart attack. His hair is crazy, and so is the look in his eyes, and Jared cracks up laughing before he can help it.

“Jared?” Jensen gasps, standing immediately to get closer. “Jesus Christ, baby, oh my god, thank god. You, I--”

“Jen," he cuts in around Jensen’s stammering, "what happened?” He tries to smile up at his friend, his heart three sizes too large for his chest and rapidly expanding. He swears Jensen just called him baby, that special little nickname, like the way Jared had called him Jen, but he thinks he’s just going crazy, the dream still at the forefront of his mind, coupled with wishful thinking and hospital drugs. 

He wants to kiss the worry off Jensen’s face, has to stop himself, remind himself they don’t do that here. Yet. He aches for his husband, but he’s right here at the same time, buried in the potential of this man. Christ, his head hurts. He won’t even get started on his heart. 

“There was a small, old TV on top of the shelf he pushed you up against. It fell right on your head,” Jensen explains, sitting back down. He seems completely unaware of the way he hasn’t let go of Jared’s left hand, running his fingers over the empty ring finger, frowning. “Worried me half to death, when you wouldn’t wake up on set. Did, uh. Did you just call me Jen?”

Jared is not a crier, no matter how soft Jensen’s love had turned dream-him, but he feels tears welling up. “I. Yeah, I did. Sorry.” 

Jensen just looks at him, really looks, his face creased with worry and uncomfortable sleep, but no wrinkles here, back in 2005. “Don't cry, beautiful,” he murmurs, like the ghost of Jared’s dream. 

Jared clenches his fingers tightly around Jensen’s, who looks surprised to realize he's holding them. “What. What did you just say?” Their voices are soft, like they're still talking in a drowsy, sex-perfumed bedroom, staring at each other from across a California King, not a hospital bed. 

“Jared, I--” Jensen’s face scrunches in worry, like he's unsure of the words coming out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I, I just had the, the _weirdest_ dream--”

Jared hears his gasp, and he fumbles for Jensen’s hand with both of his now, bringing those beautiful fingers up to his mouth. “Jen,” he whispers harshly, closing his eyes against the tears. 

“Were we--?” At Jared’s quick nod, Jensen stands, crowding him in a way he never has in this life without liquid courage, scrabbling around his waist to hold on, pushing his face into Jared’s neck. “Oh, god, baby, I didn't, didn't want to wake up--”

Jared gropes for Jensen’s face, cradling it in his big palms as he looks at him. He wonders if he should do this, because it doesn't follow the timeline of his dream, and he doesn't want anything to fuck up the perfection he felt there. But he misses Jensen, his husband, so fucking bad, and he can't imagine waiting another three years when he's right here in front of him. 

“Don't you ever make me think I'm gonna lose you again,” Jensen whispers fiercely, his stiff-upper-lipped co-star trembling with the force of the tears he's holding back. Jared doesn’t know if he’s talking about the accident, or waking up to realize he’d left his husband behind in a dream. “Ever.” 

“You're not gonna lose me, Jen. Not ever, okay?” It's a wild promise, because for all his dream showed him, showed them both, life is unpredictable. But that doesn't matter to him right now. Nothing does, except, “kiss me. Please.” 

Jensen does, wrapping his hands through Jared’s shorter hair that he's gonna start growing out immediately, melting their lips together, eyes clenched so tight their eyelids tremble. 

The kiss is everything Jared remembers it to be, but it's somehow more, because it's real. This is his life, his honest to God life, Jensen tasting of stale mornings and hospitals and sweat, and he doesn't have to give Jensen up at all, not in any way. He doesn't have to pine, he doesn't have to spend countless nights alone, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Jensen is thinking about him, praying that he is.

“Baby,” Jensen sobs against his mouth, pressing kisses against his lips, his face, burying them into his neck as Jared wraps his arms around him, not even kind of careful about his IV. 

His accelerated heart rate finally gets the attention of his nurse, who rushes in with two more on his tail.

“Oh,” he says, stopping short. Jared expects Jensen to draw away, the notoriously private man that he is, but he doesn't, just looks around at the nurse then back down at Jared, carding hair out of Jared's eyes like he couldn't care less, not bothered by the scene he's making at all. “I see. I'll, um. Go get your doctor.” 

“Thanks,” Jared croaks, never taking his eyes off Jensen’s beautiful face. “Jen, I--” 

Apparently his doctor is just around the corner, because he breezes in the next second. Jared and Jensen both let out a frustrated hmph, smiling at each other when they take in the other’s noise.

“I'll let him look you over,” Jensen murmurs, finally pulling away, looking all the while like it kills him to do so. “I haven't really...eaten, or anything, in a few days.” 

“You certainly haven't,” the doctor chimes in as he walks to Jared’s other side, checking that the IV is still firmly planted in the back of his hand. “Wouldn't even leave to go take a shower. Stayed right here, like he didn't trust anyone else to keep watch.” 

Jared smiles, wondering if the sense of peace and love floating all throughout his dream was somehow triggered by the constant vigil Jensen had kept while he was under. “Go eat, Jen.” 

“I'm going,” Jensen mutters, flushing. He runs an elegant finger over the fourth one on Jared’s left hand, like he just can't stand how empty it is. “I'll be back soon, okay, baby? Won't go far.” 

“I'll be here,” Jared promises, his heart going nuts over how reticent Jensen is to leave him, the echo of his husband blooming right in front of Jared’s eyes, ten years sooner than he knew he needed it. 

“Okay,” Jensen whispers, still tracing his eyes over Jared’s face. It reminds Jared of the way he’d touched him after Ms. Brown had harassed him, like he was checking to make sure Jared was just as perfect as Jensen had left him.

“Okay,” the doctor cuts in, amused. “Believe me when I say this, since I'm a doctor. You two are gonna make everyone sick.” 

Jared laughs loudly. Even Jensen, blushing furiously, gives a little chuckle as he backs out of the room, and the doctor moves in closer to check on his head injury.

Jared looks up one last time, and he smiles softly, heart going crazy all over again when Jensen flashes him three fingers, signing to him _I love you_ , then darting out of the room before Jared can move his own fingers in the words he knows he means with all his heart. It’s okay, though. Jared has plenty of time to tell him.

He misses his husband already, but that's okay. He didn't go anywhere. His dream was absolutely wonderful, so fucking perfect, but. 

But it looks like being awake is going to be even better, and he can't wait to make his own future, with Jensen firmly by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please let me know how if you liked it. Like I said, first timer here, and I'm so nervous about this one. Comments and kudos are my lifeblood, and keep me writing. I love you all more than Jensen loves Jared (okay, that's impossible, you're right). xoxoxo  
> Ps: this is unbetaed and a lot of words, so please excuse me while I clean it up (I only seem to really notice things when they're already posted, which is STUPID).


End file.
